


Retro at Best

by Psychopersonified



Series: Where was the wooing? [8]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, Humour, M/M, Short & Sweet, someone gets called "daddy", stolen car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29174823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychopersonified/pseuds/Psychopersonified
Summary: Poor Q has his car stolen, 007 isn't being much help.Just a short funny piece, an epilogue to "Car Troubles and Not Quite Dates" of sorts.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Where was the wooing? [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698100
Comments: 23
Kudos: 115





	Retro at Best

“You just stood there!” Q accuses. 

“What were you expecting me to do?”

“What happened to—,” Q mimes Bond’s signature running style with his arms including the steely, single-minded expression, “—you know, bolting down the road towards Westminster in under eleven seconds, super-agent man? 

“You want me to pull a hamstring chasing down teenagers in a ratty old car?”

“It’s a classic!”

“The DB5 is a classic. A 1981 Daihatsu Charade is retro, at best.” Bond smirks, mildly proud at himself for that one. 

Q levels him with a stormy expression. 

“Alright, fine… fine…,” Bond sighs, softening his approach. “Was there anything of value in the car? 

The floppy-haired boffin opens his mouth to say something but gets cut off immediately. 

“—that isn’t comprised of sentimental value. Anything expensive or something we need to report to HQ?” Bond appends his question.

Q hesitates a moment - running through a mental checklist, then admitting reluctantly, “No…”

“Then let insurance take care of it. I can’t imagine you’ll get much for it - but it would be better than nothing,” Bond couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to steal that rusty road hazard. Maybe the dim evening light lent it a more flattering countenance. Realistically, it was barely worth a couple of hundred quid, if that. 

“Ugh!” Q throws his hands in the air. “You sound like my father.”

“By that, you mean mature and rational?” Bond preens mildly. He’s never been accused of that before. 

“No you’re right, that’s not my father. You sound like M.” 

“Alright, alright. No need to get hostile.” He throws an arm around Q’s shoulders, ”Come on, I’ll escort you to the police station. I’m sure they’d love to hear all about your stolen Daihatsu,” Bond suggests whilst steering them in the direction of the nearest station. 

As twistedly amusing as the whole situation was for him, Bond could tell from the slight tremor running through the lean shoulders that the younger man was still somewhat shaken by the experience. 

A little more gently he says, “Look, it was probably some amateur hoodlums thinking it was easy pickings. No security alarm, no immobiliser, and easy to hot-wire.” Secretly he thinks it was for the best. Bond hated the rust bucket and its debatable roadworthiness with a passion. 

The young Quartermaster drops his shoulders. “*Sniffle* I loved that car. Saw me through many good and bad times. I wonder if my cousin knows anyone in Scotland Yard…” Q mumbles fidgeting with the zipper on his jumper. 

“The one who works in the Cabinet Office?” 

“No… he wouldn’t care about trivialities like sentiment,” it’s a pointed remark aimed at Bond as well.

“What, the other one? The behavioural profiler? No - private detective?”

Q makes a sad affirmative hum, pouting a little, still contemplating. He looked so young then, jumper sleeves pulled down to his knuckles, fingers fidgeting with the cuffs. Even his usually floppy hair, limp and wilted. A poor university student down to his last pound. 

“You’re not seriously thinking to waste—,” Bond backtracks quickly, “— _distract_ him from more pressing matters with a missing 40 year old Daihatsu are you?” appealing to Q’s evaporated maturity. 

“My cousin likes puzzles. And he’ll probably be more helpful than you are right now.”

Bond ignores the jab, “Will I ever get to met them?”

“Not if you continue being mean to me,” Q has a full on pout now. 

“I’m surprised you hadn’t fitted that thing with a tracker if it meant so much to you.”

“It hadn’t occurred to me that anyone would want to steal it!”

“Ah, so you _do_ admit that it was barely worth the effort?” Bond is relieved to hear that the Q wasn’t completely out of character this evening. 

“Don’t make me get mad at you.”

“Thought it was already too late. In for a penny, in for a pound - that sort of thing.”

“James!” Q snaps, though his tone was less angry and more a mixture of pleading and annoyance. He really needed James’ support right now and wasn’t expecting the smart-mouthed replies. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry…,” James leans in to press a kiss against Q’s hair, just above the ear, to seal the apology. He pulls Q closer to him as they continue walking. 

“Look, here we are,” he steers them inside the police station. 

A few minutes later, they get a clipboard and a form to fill. “Anything valuable inside the vehicle?” the officer on duty asks. 

“Just sentimental value,” Bond quips, while Q fills in the paperwork.

“Too bad insurance won’t cover that, eh?” the officer about Bond’s age replies immediately.

Bond the officer share a smirk like it was the funniest thing they’ve heard all night. But Q remains resolutely silent, head bent over the archaic paper form. It made him look even more like a forlorn child.

“Aww, don’t worry lad. Insurance will take care of the rest,” the officer softens his approach. 

“That’s what I said, but he wouldn’t listen,” James reaches out to cup the back of Q’s head affectionately. 

“Your dad’s right lad. Once the paperwork’s taken care of, everything else is pretty straightforward,” Officer Sensitive tries again. 

Q chokes off the involuntary chuckle and it comes out more like a wheeze, his shoulders hitching. He sneaks a peek at James. James who thanks to his training, manages to keep his smile from wavering at the unintended insult. 

“I’ll go fill-up my form… over there,” Q keeps his head low and points to the waiting area to the right of them. Bond gives the officer a tight smile before following suit. 

As soon as they are out of earshot Q turns to him and can’t resist a tease, “You’re not going to spank me for losing my car are you, Daddy?”

“Shut up and fill out your form,” James huffs, finally at a loss for a smart comeback. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wonder who Q's cousins might be? 😆


End file.
